Together at last

In that delicious dim of late afternoon cloudy day, with thunder rolling in the distance, and the glow of premature artificial light, the children bubbled with joy.  I, too, had a hop in my step; even the usual dishes and laundry and scooping of the cat litter seemed no trouble, as I lingered in that cozy, moist atmosphere, of rain promised and rain fulfilled.  In our high country desert, with years of too little winter moisture to meet the requirements of even our shrubby plants, the moisture brings such deeply satisfying nourishment... not only to the plants, but to our spirits.

And as school lingers just four more days before us, we enjoyed an afternoon homework-free -- and for the children, chore-free.  Even I had the benefit of dinner already prepared -- leftovers from my father-in-law's talented hands.  So I prompted the girls to invite their neighbor friend over, even invited her to stay for dinner and our special movie night.  And the boys played in the street with their older neighbor friend, racing bikes, making hoops - as he lowered the basket for them.  They were so engaged, the sudden rain bursts didn't even slow them down, and they moaned as I called them in from it.

Such beauty from yesterday afternoon, the words fixed inside my head, and I ached to pen them on this long-abandoned blog.  My last words here were of our fast-approaching trip to the other side of the world, for our fourth child.  And here she's been, home for four months.  Our family has ached and stretched since the last writing. 

We thought we had faith as we set out for Uganda in November.  We knew we had that confirmation from God, that through the adoption processes' snags and turns, all we needed to do was come to Him in prayer, and He would take care of it.  And that understanding was tested and tested again, as Scott and I separately had to come to terms with the fact that He might be asking us to move our family to Uganda in order to have all six of us together forever.  God grew us in ways we didn't know we needed to grow.  Scott and I single-parented on different continents for eight weeks, not knowing each day what adoption decisions others would make on our behalf.

Thanks be to God, Who brought our family back home, Who united us together in one place. 

And the inevitable work began after our tearful reunion.  The one who is now the oldest used to be the youngest.  The one who was the oldest is now the middle.  And those scars blazed deep, deep into tissues of our daughter's heart and mind remain -- surfacing as they are triggered.  And God is healing again.  We saw His healing of my back last year, and now we marvel, as week by week, a different kind of healing unfolds before our family's eyes.  A healing where our eleven-year-old daughter -- who needs to know that she is loved, accepted, cherished -- pushes and stretches, thrives, and flourishes under the hands of the Almighty.  Some days bring tears and tantrums, where Scott and I drop into bed with headaches and neck aches, and a prayer on each breath.  But so many days bring laughter and inklings of sprouting growth.

Thanks be to God, Who adopted us into His family.  Many thanks to all of you, for joining us in this incredible process.

We love because He first loved us.  We adopt because He first adopted us.